


second chances

by novoaa1



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Blood, Drinking, F/F, Group Therapy, Jade POV, Kind of a character study, LMAOOOOOO, Minor Violence, Post-Season/Series 02, and fun stuff like that, but also lizzie being slightly problematic for sure, humanity switches, landon being a cute lil buddy who just wants the best for people, lizzie being a whole asshole but also like. lovable and with feelings cause i adore her, tags to add later? i cant think of anything now, trauma aftermath, uhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23693632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novoaa1/pseuds/novoaa1
Summary: Because now, things are different—well, somewhat.Jade’s still a killer; innocent blood stains her monstrous hands no matter how many times she scrubs them clean—the same goes for Wendy, and Diego, too.They’re guilty, the three of them—what’s more, they know it, too. That hasn’t changed.But 10 years is a long time, and the rest of it… well. The rest of it has.Or: Jade comes back 10 years later to find that everything has changed—case in point: Josie Saltzman, all grown up. (Andhot, too, in case anyone was wondering.)Understandably, there's a bit of a learning curve.
Relationships: Diego & Jade & Wendy (Legacies), Emma Tig/Dorian Williams, Jade/Josie Saltzman, Josie Saltzman & Lizzie Saltzman
Comments: 17
Kudos: 115





	1. lessons learned

**Author's Note:**

> you know the drill,,, hastily edited, done instead of my homework (which imma get to now), but i finished the new season like yesterday so i wanted to write something.. let me know what you think?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Let's just agree to collectively ignore the fact that I decided to write Diego as having come back from the prison world when he really didn't, and also the fact that I'm having Emma and Dorian stay for the purposes of this fic pls and thank you)

You know, there’s quite a bit you get to learn as an impressionable young vampire when eating and sleeping and _living_ amidst a bunch of other supernaturally inclined kids (many of which are exactly like you) at Salvatore Boarding School—that much, Jade can’t deny.

She doesn’t quite know where she’d be without it—she can’t imagine living as a vampire with _out_ a school chock-full of supernaturals to call her home, without witches and werewolves and fellow vamps all around that know all too well how she feels, what it means to exist in this world as something more than human… for better or for worse. (These days, Jade’s rather inclined to believe it's the latter.)

Either way, she’s lucky—she didn’t have to tackle vampirism alone, just like Wendy didn’t have to burn down half the state of Virginia in some misguided effort to harness her propensity for arson unaided and Diego didn’t have to recover from the trauma of taking another's life for the very first time (thereby triggering his curse) on his own.

So, yea, she’s lucky; rest assured, she knows that. 

Still, they didn’t quite cover everything at Salvatore, and while Jade knows very well that her instructors and TAs did all they could beneath Headmaster Saltzman’s flawed (but ultimately strong) leadership, there’s a couple things she probably would’ve liked to know just the same before that night she snuck out of detention in hopes of seeing that cute girl Inez and maybe getting to know her a little better but everything just went to shit instead.

Firstly, the fact that they’d been feeding her animal blood all along rather than human blood. Honestly, she’s pretty sure that the old her wouldn’t have minded either way, because it’d always tasted pretty damn good to her, and it’d done well enough to keep her alive (—well, not like she was technically alive to begin with, but you get the point—) since turning… What would there have been to complain about, right?

Well, except the fact that they didn’t. Tell her, that is… which made the whole “seeing human blood” that night for the very first time as a vampire all the more confusing and overwhelming and ultimately pretty freaking triggering, because months at Salvatore feeding off what she wholeheartedly believed to be human blood given willingly from donors at the local hospital resulted in her being absolutely blindsided by the close proximity to fresh human blood and the way its coppery scent called so powerfully to her such that she feared the hunger might burn her from the inside out if she didn’t satisfy it… 

And surprise, surprise: she lost all control and pounced on (not in the hot way) the super pretty girl Inez she’d been so eager to see in the first place, then fed and fed and _fed_ until the girl’s heart had long stopped beating, until she’d drained every last drop of sickly-sweet blood from the deathly pale body beneath her.

Which sucked. A lot. (Pun very much not intended.)

And secondly, she wishes they would’ve told her a bit more about the whole “humanity switch” thing, ‘cause really all they ever said about it was to _not_ turn it off in the first place, but that’s not super helpful when you’re freaking out and hyperventilating against a tree with the fresh blood of the girl you liked soaking through the fabric of your clothes while one of your likewise uber-mega-panicked friends magically sets two screaming kids on fire and the other is darting around the clearing on all fours with a dismembered human limb in his fanged mouth.

But, really, that wasn’t even the worst part—that wasn’t the part she wished they’d told her about. 

No, the worst came when a black-magic-possessed all-grown-up (not to mention _super_ hot) Josie Saltzman flipped Jade’s humanity switch right back on over in the prison world, because never in all her months of meticulously guided self-discovery at Salvatore did they tell her what that would feel like—getting her humanity back, that is. Being made to _feel_ again. 

It was an experience unlike anything she’d ever known before, like she was falling and burning and fucking _dying_ on the dream-world hardwood floor of the Salvatore School—for good, this time.

Everything she’d suppressed over the last ten years came rushing back in a flood of overpowering emotion—the pungent aroma of Inez’s blood, how her fleshy carotid pulsed visibly with every quickened breath, the way she fucking _screamed_ when Jade tasted her for the very first time. Her insides burned; her mind became suddenly aware of the sentient filth festering beneath her skin, such that she found herself shrieking bloody murder to the very heavens above to stop herself from peeling every last inch of her immortal skin from her body in some gruesome attempt at cleansing herself of the foulness permeating her insides, the impurity instilled within her very bones. 

Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much, she thought. Maybe then she could be forgiven. 

(She was wrong.) 

So, yea, she thinks—that all would’ve been really nice to know. 

Oh, well. Beggars can’t be choosers, right?

Because now, things are different—well, somewhat. 

Jade’s still a killer; innocent blood stains her monstrous hands no matter how many times she scrubs them clean—the same goes for Wendy, and Diego, too. 

(They sleep restlessly at night, cooped up in the Old Mill on the outskirts of Salvatore property—far enough from the school that they can’t endanger any of the students within, but close enough that Headmaster Saltzman can keep a watchful eye on them should they see fit to cause any trouble.

Diego hoards non-perishable food and hides it beneath the floorboards thinking Wendy doesn’t watch him doing it in her periphery and Jade can’t easily smell it from where she sleeps—they’re content to pretend that they truly don't, for his sake. 

Wendy disappears some nights, vanishing amidst the trees and returning hours later reeking of smoke and ash and everything coinciding with a five-alarm fire—except gasoline. She _never_ smells of gasoline. 

Jade wakes screaming sometimes in the dead of night, making Diego start with a gasp across the room and Wendy—if she’s there—scramble to peek her head out from the second floor above to check on her. They don’t talk, don’t ask her if she’s alright—they just sit there. Watching. Waiting. They don’t lie back down until Jade does first, her subtle way of indicating to the two of them that she’s okay now, that the worst of it has passed.

They don’t talk about that, either.) 

They’re guilty, the three of them—what’s more, they know it, too. That hasn’t changed. 

But 10 years is a long time, and the rest of it… well. The rest of it has. 

Little Josie Saltzman, for one—she’s not so little anymore, nor is she so wonderfully naive and unrepentantly trusting. 

(Jade wonders where that innocence went, if it simply waned throughout the years or was instead ripped forcefully from her in painful chunks by handsome boys with cruelty in their eyes or girlish monsters with deceivingly pretty faces, or perhaps a combination of both. 

Jade wonders if she was one of those monsters—one of _Josie’s_ monsters. 

The mere thought of it nauseates her.)

Speaking of which, it seems that not-so-little crazy-powerful Josie Saltzman is _everywhere_ now—walking down the exact same hall at the exact same time Jade is; taking walks near the Old Mill right when Jade decides to wander a little further out into the forest, curious to see precisely what else has changed in her absence; sitting prettily amidst a cluster of faces Jade vaguely recognizes in a stuffy rank-smelling gymnasium for “strongly recommended” (AKA “necessary if you wish to continue your time here as a student, Jade” according to Headmaster Saltzman) therapy with Miss Tig that absolutely no one told her was going to be a group affair. 

She looks _good_ , too, which very nearly has Jade tripping over her own feet as she shuffles in—she’s wearing this grey cashmere sweater with the Salvatore logo on the left breast and a plaid school-issue skirt that barely reaches mid-thigh over all-black tights that cling to her willowy legs like a second freaking skin. 

It’s fucking ridiculous how badly Jade wants to kiss her right now—consequently, it’s almost a relief when Josie’s delightfully bitchy counterpart Lizzie spits out, “What the hell is _she_ doing here?” with a suspicion-heavy narrow-eyed gaze at yours truly, successfully diverting Jade’s attentions elsewhere (… at least, for the moment). 

“Jade!” Miss Tig exclaims brightly with a toothy smile, bypassing Lizzie’s snarled comment entirely. “You’re just in time.”

Lizzie scoffs as Jade awkwardly pulls up a chair next to an angry-looking girl she thinks is named Hope, and a borderline-distraught Josie shrink further into her seat as if this is literally the last place she wants to be right now— _God, I almost miss the prison world_ , Jade thinks to herself even as Miss Tig furthers her optimism-heavy explanation on the magical simulation in question and everyone else in the room (sans a cheery-looking kid with coffee-bean-colored skin and a hopeful smile upon his boyish features seated directly behind Lizzie) continues to look spectacularly miserable. _Here goes nothing_. 

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

So, it goes like this: Josie has a demonic psychological split and poisons Jade with a healthy dose of arsenic in the simulation long before she even knows what the heck is happening because she can’t stop staring at the Cupid’s bow of Josie’s full painted lips and the warmth of her hand atop Jade’s amidst the gentle ambience of a simpler time that—

Ahem. She’s getting off-topic here. 

Point is, simulation-Josie kills Jade, and Jade is far too gay and starry-eyed to even notice that it’s happening… Which surprises absolutely no one, unfortunately, least of all Jade herself. 

So, she wakes up earlier than everyone else (besides some scruffy-looking guy who says his name is Vardemus), booted from the simulation all because she’s too enamored with Josie freaking Saltzman to focus on literally anything else, and wow, she really needs to get her priorities in order, _stat_. 

But she can’t really do that right now, unfortunately; on top of that, she can’t even be angry with herself for not being able to do that right now, because simulation-Josie is killing people and the guy calling himself Vardemus says that that’s bad (like, _really_ bad) and Jade is sick to her stomach worrying over whether or not Josie (—the real Josie, not the one that’s currently on a rather prolific killing spree within the hijacked simulation—) is going to be okay. 

God, she really needs to get a grip. 

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

“You like her, don’t you?” Wendy asks one night as the three of them kill time around a makeshift fire just outside the Old Mill, trading stupid jokes and harmless insults and shared half-remembrances wrought with bitter nostalgia across the flames.

Things have changed again (—Jade thinks she’s beginning to sense something of a theme here): Josie Saltzman’s on the mend from her spectacular mental break, the all-powerful tribrid girl called Hope and her scrawny boyfriend (Lainey, Jade thinks his name was?) lie motionless whilst the entire school waits with bated breath for them to wake, and Headmaster Saltzman is currently processing the paperwork for Wendy, Diego, and Jade’s return back to the Salvatore School. 

It should make them happy, that last part—finally coming back. 

It should, but it doesn’t. It’s in the air, a tension Jade can taste like acid on her tongue, an unspoken fear that none of them dare to say aloud.

So, instead, they speak of better things—lighter things. _Safer_ things. 

“Who?” Jade asks, doing her very best to feign ignorance. 

Wendy rolls her eyes. “Joy Saltzman.”

“Josie.”

“Whatever,” Wendy quips back as if it’s of little consequence to her, though the telltale glimmer in her dark irises lets Jade know that she played right into Wendy’s hands by rising to that particular bait. 

Diego frowns, pulling apart a dead autumn leaf whilst he sits cross-legged amongst the foliage, entirely oblivious to what’s happening between Jade and Wendy. “Isn’t that the girl who tried to kill everyone?”

“She was _possessed_ , asshat,” Jade snaps, rising to Josie’s defense before she even realizes what’s happening, mentally chastising herself as she sees Wendy’s smug grin widen in her periphery. 

“So, you _do_ like her,” Wendy surmises, taking a swig from her beer and giving Jade a meaningful look. “She’s into girls, too, I hear.”

“That’s—"

“Hot,” Diego supplies with a wolfish grin. 

“Shut up,” “Shut up,” Jade and Wendy immediately admonish him, though it comes as more of an afterthought (at least, on Jade’s part) than anything else. 

They sit in silence for a moment or two, then—Wendy sipping her beer and unabashedly watching Jade with thoughtful eyes, Diego dissecting an entire tree’s worth of dead leaves before throwing their remnants into the flames, Jade staring blankly into the fire whilst doing absolutely everything in her power to avoid allowing herself to even imagine a chance with someone like Josie Saltzman, someone so strong and intelligent and _good_. (In other words, everything Jade isn’t.)

Unsurprisingly, it’s Wendy who breaks the comfortable quiet, though she does so with a note of sincerity in her typically so sardonic tone that Jade’s never heard from her before: “You deserve good things, you know.”

Jade tenses, wondering briefly if she’s misheard. “Huh?”

Wendy’s lips twitch, threatening a genuine smile. “This is our second chance, Jay. Most people don’t get that,” she lowers her gaze to the flames, watching their indiscriminate flow with glassy eyes. “Let’s not waste it, okay?” Her gaze flits briefly over to Diego, gesturing vaguely with her beer (Jade hears the way it sloshes in the bottle) to get the stony-faced boy’s attention. “That goes for you, too, Wolf Boy.”

Diego nods shallowly at that after a long moment of silence, biting anxiously at his lower lip; it’s another little while before he finally speaks, his voice quiet and hoarse: “I don’t want to fuck it up this time, you guys.”

And, there it is—the bone-deep fear they all feel, the kind that feels too powerful to say aloud, the kind that has the potentiality to wreck them if they aren’t careful, second chances be damned. 

“Me neither,” Jade admits, the admission coming out of her like metric tons of water through a breaking dam, all turbulent uncertainty and unadulterated emotion and an efficacious fear she can taste like acid on her tongue—and yet, there’s something to be said for the (relative) immunity she gains by voicing it aloud, that in doing so she knows she’s not alone (… even if it still scares the ever-loving crap out of her). 

“To 'second chances,'” Wendy declares, raising her bottle towards the star-lit sky above. “May the three of us manage to not fuck it up.”

“Hear, hear.”

“Let’s not jinx it, please.”

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵


	2. group (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lanky boy with coffee-bean-colored skin and a boyish smile (who Jade now knows to be MG) frowns slightly from Lizzie’s other side. “I thought you were down for the whole ’therapy’ thing, Lizzie.”
> 
> “I _was_ , MG,” she counters flippantly, seemingly oblivious to the way MG’s hopeful look fades ever-so-slightly in the face of her offhanded dismissal. “Until we all got ‘beamed up’ by that _stupid_ box to freaking _Zombieland_ instead."
> 
> “Hold up,” a scrawny boy with curly black close-cropped hair and a surprisingly deep voice (who Jade thinks is Hope’s supernaturally suspect boyfriend—Lainey, or something—) interjects. “What box?”
> 
> “No, Bird Brain, _you_ ‘hold up,’" Lizzie quips sharply, flashing the poor bug-eyed boy a devastating glare before turning in her seat to raise single brow at Miss Tig across the circle. “What is _he_ doing here?” she questions brashly, gesturing in Lainey’s vague direction. 
> 
> Or: Group therapy... round #2. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know the drill kids 
> 
> didn't really proofread because i'm a piece of garbage so pls feel free to let me know if there are any glaring errors etc etc
> 
> i just REALLY gotta do my work tha ti've been procrastinating and also it's 2:20am so no time must sleep
> 
> enjoy? also let me know what you think!

Hope and her scrawny boyfriend awaken on a Thursday; though, their return to the mortal plane is, of course, a direct result of an entirely absurd series of deeply unfortunate events (—Jade’s beginning to wonder if there’s anything that comes simple around here). The “series of deeply unfortunate events” in question are, to whom it may concern, as follows:

A monster (“another” one, because evidently this was something of a theme) from somewhere called “Malivore” on a mission to tear up the sleeping tribrid that was eventually foiled only after he’d wholeheartedly terrorized a solid half of the student body; an impromptu visit from that guy with the horribly-marred features (“the Necromancer!” he’d bellowed to announce his unsolicited presence, loudly enough that Jade was pretty sure people three states over had heard) that ultimately left the entire southwest wing of Salvatore Boarding School in literal flames; and lastly, a truly insane degree of witchy insanity (that of a complexity unlike anything Jade had ever seen before) carried out by the Saltzman twins along with a handful of others that ultimately tipped the proverbial scales in their favor and at long last roused the two lovebirds from their slumber.

What’s more, they’re enrolled back in the school, now—she, Diego, and Wendy. Officially. 

(Honestly, she’s still not sure how she feels about it… Besides scared shitless, that is.)

They start classes soon, once they get books and lockers and schedules from Mr. Williams; additionally, Headmaster Saltzman had offered them housing in the dorms (a show of good faith, she presumes), though they all were quick to decline his generous proposition, insisting that they’d much rather remain staying out at the Old Mill instead. It was better that way, they knew. Safer. 

All that happens in the compact span of about a week’s time, which to Jade is positively dizzying—especially after having come so recently from a 10-year stint in a finite prison world where every single day was a precise copy of the one before it (barring the variable actions of the very prisoners it was made to confine, of course). 

Perhaps even more confounding, she can’t stop dreaming. Of Josie, that is. 

They’ve talked a few times here and there since the decidedly violent mess of a reconciliation in the prison world and their rather disastrous virtual group therapy-session-turned-bloodbath and Josie returning from the brink of a magical-slash-physiological split, but not like Jade so desperately wants to. Not in the way that _matters_.

Instead, they converse about Wendy and Diego and Jade’s imminent return to the Salvatore School, about classes and scheduling and getting along with each of the supernatural factions in order to optimize productivity, both on a smaller scale (school projects and community-wide events such) and a larger one (ultimately defeating this “Necromancer” and the threats that would inevitably follow)—technicalities and pleasantries are all they exchange, because Josie is broken (and magic-less, as she understands) but Jade is pretty damned broken too, and neither are brave enough to act as if it isn’t eating them up from the inside to pretend any different. 

(Plus, there’s the whole “Jade trying to rip Josie’s throat out on multiple different occasions in the prison world while her humanity switch was still off” thing to consider, too.)

Overall, things are weird, and painful, and overwhelming, and ever changing—but they’re a hell of a lot better than they used to be, and Jade knows well enough by now to appreciate that while it lasts.

(In her experience, it never does. Not for very long, at least.)

And in the meantime… Well. Honestly, she still has yet to figure that part out. 

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

“ _Please_ tell me that this is a joke,” that one grumpy tribrid girl—Hope—snarls out, crossing her arms (each clad in a soft-looking lilac-colored fabric) petulantly beneath her chest and affixing Miss Tig with a decidedly unamused look upon her pretty features.

Everyone had only just finished plopping themselves hastily into the wooden chairs placed in a strategic circle at the half-court line of the Salvatore School gymnasium for yet another rousing session of “strongly recommended” group therapy—because, Jade supposed, the last one hadn’t gone poorly enough for Headmaster Saltzman and Miss Tig’s cumulative liking. 

“If it is, it’s not funny,” Lizzie grumbles out next from Hope’s side, pouty lips set in a grouchy frown as the blonde girl slouches further into her seat (which makes her almost—though not quite—even with the notably shorter Hope in stature, Jade notes). 

The lanky boy with coffee-bean-colored skin and a boyish smile (who Jade now knows to be MG) frowns slightly from Lizzie’s other side. “I thought you were down for the whole ’therapy’ thing, Lizzie.”

“I _was_ , MG,” she counters flippantly, seemingly oblivious to the way MG’s hopeful look fades ever-so-slightly in the face of her offhanded dismissal. “Until we all got ‘beamed up’ by that _stupid_ box to freaking _Zombieland_ instead."

“Hold up,” a scrawny boy with curly black close-cropped hair and a surprisingly deep voice (who Jade thinks is Hope’s supernaturally suspect boyfriend—Lainey, or something—) interjects. “What box?”

“No, Bird Brain, _you_ ‘hold up,’" Lizzie quips sharply, flashing the poor bug-eyed boy a devastating glare before turning in her seat to raise single brow at Miss Tig across the circle. “What is _he_ doing here?” she questions brashly, gesturing in Lainey’s vague direction. 

Miss Tig, for her part, opens her mouth as if to speak, though it’s none other than Lizzie Saltzman who manages to beat her to it. ( _God, does that girl ever stop talking?_ Jade thinks to herself. ) “And them, too,” the blonde adds, jerking her head towards Wendy and Diego, who sit stiffly on either side of Jade. “Simu-Josie didn’t kill _them_ as part of her serial killing spree—”

“Lizzie,” Josie hisses from between MG and Lainey, a rosy flush tinging her fair cheeks—Jade can’t help thinking she’s never seen something so precious in her entire life. 

“Well—" Miss Tig begins, only to be interrupted yet again (this time by Hope’s "fashion-challenged boyfriend”—Lizzie’s words, not hers):

“Wait, _what_ ?” Lainey squeaks. “‘ _Killing spree_ ’?!"

“Oh, _please_ , Frodo—calm down. Everyone knows you’d just resurrect yourself like Jesus on the third magical day of Easter—"

“That’s… " a lean and muscled boy with a buzzcut like a shadow on his scalp and a perpetually confused look upon his tanned features speaks up, brows furrowed and mouth agape. (Jade thinks his name is Rafael.) “… kind of sacrilegious. I think.”

“Plus, that’s not even how Easter _works_ —"

“Don’t care, didn’t ask,” Lizzie counters in an airy tone. “Also, your fly is down.”

Lainey’s eyes widen comically, his forest-green eyes darting down with startling speed to check his navy denim trousers—and not a second later, he’s lifting his chin back up to affix a smirking Lizzie with an affronted look. “No, it’s not!”

Lizzie merely shrugs, as if it’s of little consequence to her even whilst Jade feels Wendy lean ever so slightly from her right to murmur, “A supernatural with the ability to resurrect?”

Jade gives a subtle nod towards the mop-headed boy with green eyes and the fly that is not, in fact, down. “That boy.”

“What’s his name?”

“Lainey, I think.”

“I thought it was ‘Aiden,’” Diego leans over to join their whispered conversation, though his heavy-browed gaze remains affixed across the circle on the supernatural anomaly in question. 

“Uh, you guys know that I can hear you, right?” the wide-eyed boy speaks up from across the circle (though he sounds more genuinely uncomfortable than annoyed), his expression uncannily resembling that of a spooked deer caught in blinding LED headlights. 

“Shit."

“Um—"

“And it’s, um… Landon,” he supplies with an awkward half-chuckle, shoving his hands into his jean pockets as everyone in the gymnasium turns their attentions to him. “My name.”

Jade blinks, feeling her cheeks burn hotly beneath his doe-eyed gaze. “I… am _so_ sorry, I—"

“No—I mean, it’s completely okay,” he rambles out, his pinkish lips twitching to form a gawky (though genuine) lopsided smile. “It’s, um… Nice to meet you.”

Jade nods, sinking further into her seat and silently praying for the ground to swallow her whole. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Lizzie sighs heavily at that, as if Jade’s just personally insulted her in some completely unforgivable way, a deep scowl marring her otherwise comely features.

There’s quiet for a moment or two afterwards, quiet during which Jade can’t quite help sneaking a quick peek over at Josie (who looks absolutely miserable: bare knees drawn rigidly together beneath another plaid school-issue skirt, hands fiddling anxiously with the hem of her fleece-white sweater, brown-eyed gaze fixed resolutely upon the hardwood floor between her white Converse-clad feet), until—

“O- _kay!_ " Miss Tig finally inserts herself, accented voice ripe with strained enthusiasm. “Right! Let’s, um… Let’s get to it, shall we?”

MG nods eagerly at that, flashing Miss Tig a bright smile even as the rest of the group (sans mild-mannered Rafael and a still bug-eyed Landon) remain rather outspoken concerning their level of enthusiasm (or lack thereof) at the prospect of… whatever this is supposed to be:

“Sure.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

“Alright, let’s start simple,” Miss Tig declares, quite evidently doing her very best to appear unaffected by the decidedly less-than-supportive response she’d initially gotten from (nearly) every single person in the room. “I want us to go around and say something that we’re currently struggling with, okay?” 

When no one offers up even a mildly reassuring reply, she powers on: “… I’ll go first, then: I’m currently struggling with the fact that Dorian, whom you all probably know more colloquially as ‘Mr. Williams,’ was recently injured rather badly with a golden arrow.” Jade thinks she sees Landon adopt a rather guilt-ridden expression at that from across the circle, though she can’t quite be sure. 

“He almost… He almost _died_ ,” she utters out, her voice cracking ever-so-slightly on the final syllable even as her warm brown-eyed gaze steadily sweeps over each member of the assembled group in turn. “He almost died, because he is human. I think I often make the mistake of forgetting that.”

The quiet in the room is changing as she speaks—Jade can feel it. It’s becoming a silence borne purely out of reverence rather than common courtesy; all too suddenly, everyone (even Lizzie) is listening on the edges of their seats, not because Miss Tig is a teacher and as such they are bound to respect her by order of some unspoken decree stipulating in no uncertain terms that a student must show respect to their instructors… but instead, due to the incontestable fact that what she’s sharing is personal, is real and _raw_ —not to mention, concerns something (or some _one_ , rather) that matters to each and every kid seated there.

“He holds his own _so well_ amongst our small community of supernatural creatures, that I forget. I think perhaps I’m not alone in that,” she adds with a wry smile, though her eyes have since adopted a glassy sheen that has Jade itching to reach out and embrace the poor woman (the fact that they don’t know each other at all well enough for something like that be damned). "And although his humanity is one of the many reasons I care for him so deeply, it’s also terrifying. It makes him… vulnerable, and that is rather hard for me to accept.”

There’s silence for a protracted moment after that, so exhaustive and absolute that Jade’s sure she’d easily be able to hear a pin drop (even without the added benefit of vampiric hearing). 

“Hope, would you please go next?” Miss Tig entreats quietly to the stock-still girl beside her even whilst she turns her gaze skyward, blinking periodically in a conspicuous effort to quell the passionate tears welling in her eyes. “We’ll go around the circle in turn."

“I… Yeah, Em—Miss Tig. Sure,” Hope stutters out, one hand beginning to fiddle idly with the vibrant silver snake-chain bracelet twice encircling her left wrist, a thoughtful look in her blue-green eyes. “Something I’m, um, _struggling_ with is the fact that I… " she casts her gaze downward, appearing to quite suddenly develop a rather profound interest in her scuffed black combat boots. "I have people now. Which means… I have something to lose. Again.”

There’s an expectant quiet blanketing the room for a moment—which becomes two, then three… until it becomes rather apparent that Hope is finished now, and doesn’t seem open to expanding any further beyond that. (Honestly, Jade doesn’t much blame her.)

“I guess that makes me next,” Lizzie starts, voice laced with an uncharacteristic note of hesitance. (Understandable, Jade thinks, considering the rather somber mood permeating the room.) “I was gonna share something dumb, and maybe insult Landon some more,” (Jade can’t help the way her lips twitch at her use of his actual name rather than some demeaning insult), “but that seems pretty insensitive now, considering, so, um… " she pauses herself, biting anxiously at her lower lip and turning an entreating gaze towards Miss Tig, who has since (somewhat) recovered from her emotional spell and is now observing the ongoing activity with kind chocolate-brown eyes. “This is confidential, right? Nothing I say leaves this room?”

“That’s correct, Lizzie.”

“Okay,” she acquiesces, letting out a quiet breath and staring pointedly off at some point up in the distance as she flatly states (all in one breath, mind you): “I’m struggling with the fact that the boy I liked roofied me with vampire blood instead of drugs and then said the wrong name while professing his love for me, and then I crashed a cop car in the prison world trying to get away from him but instead I almost died and became a vampire and then I left and he made things right back in the prison world and then I visited him via astral projection to tell him the world was collapsing and that he was gonna die if he didn’t try and make it to the single loophole down south that he only barely had time to get to if he left right away but he just sat back and smiled like it was funny and then I lost the signal and I think he’s dead now,” she pauses to inhale a large breath of air, her cheeks pink with exertion before rushing head-first into another bout of breathless dialogue mere moments later.

(Meanwhile, Jade and Wendy and Diego and pretty much everyone else in the circle—with the exception of Hope and Josie—watch and listen with slackened jaws and bulging eyes.) 

“Also, I almost lost my sister again who’s literally one of, like, three people in this world I can actually stand and I almost had to merge with her in the process and that was really freaking scary and also somehow it’s not even over yet ‘cause the stupid Necromancer is still out there and has a bunch of power and he’s coming back but I already lost Sebastian—that _asshole_ —and I keep almost losing my sister and I don’t think I’m ready to do that again. Any of it.” She stops for a moment then at last, inhaling and exhaling in audible gasps. (It’s the only sound in the otherwise deadly silent gymnasium.) “Is that everything? I think that’s everything. Good. Can I be done now?” she questions breathlessly (the query seemingly directed at no one in particular, as her green-eyed gaze remains ever stubbornly affixed upon some point off in the distance), though she doesn’t bother waiting for an answer: “I’m done now.”

… _Jesus_. 

Miss Tig blinks once, twice, three times as a pervasive silence falls upon the circle; eventually, though, she speaks (—her voice is about an octave higher than normal): “… Right. I—Perhaps we should, um… Take a short recess, yes? Let’s come back to this in… " she trails off, checking the elegant gold-plated watch upon her right wrist. “10 minutes. I would suggest walking around, stretching your legs—you can go outside, if you wish, so long as you’re back in time. We’ll do some… processing as a group when we come back, and then we’ll plan to continue on with the rest of the activity. Sound good?”

No one responds—even the ever-chipper MG doesn’t dare to hazard so much as an answering nod. 

Miss Tig purses her lips with furrowed brows, nodding slowly to herself. “… Lovely.”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unpopular opinion: i dont mind landon that much... i actually think he's kinda funny and a refreshing juxtaposition to the still very much prevalent underlying themes of toxic masculinity in mainstream media
> 
> also i fucking love lizzie dude. and hope


	3. something like a shovel talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josie and Jade talk, and Lizzie gives Jade a shovel talk... or, something to that effect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> found this chapter lying around
> 
> let me know what you think?

The “short recess” in question looks something like this: Ms. Tig is the first to stand from her chair, turning on her heel and crossing the space at a rather brisk before disappearing through the gymnasium doorway without a single utterance. Jade hears her erratic footsteps as they hang a right and continue down the corridor, likely in search of Headmaster Saltzman’s office just a couple hundred feet further down the hall. 

(Jade doesn’t quite blame her for needing someone to talk to, especially in light of what she’d just shared… and Hope and Lizzie, too.)

Hope is next to leave, though curiously not with Landon—rather, it’s a decidedly grumpy-looking Lizzie Saltzman that drags the wide-eyed tribrid girl forcibly up from her seat and out the gymnasium, the two exchanging fervent whispers (that which Jade has to put a _lot_ of effort into not overhearing) all the while. 

MG darts up next, giving chase with a half-yelped, “Lizzie! Hope! Wait up!"

“C’mon, guys,” Wendy murmurs to Jade and Diego once Hope and Lizzie and MG have all gone, standing from her seat and wordlessly stalking off towards the single exit without sparing so much as a glance behind her—after a brief second, Diego is scrambling hastily to his feet and dutifully trailing after her even as Jade stays put, biting anxiously at her lip and gathering her nerve.

She feels Diego cast her a curious look over his shoulder as he hurries to follow Wendy through the gymnasium doors—she ignores him, for now. She’ll explain later. 

“Fuck it,” she murmurs quietly to herself even as Landon and Rafael stand simultaneously to leave, waiting for the two boys (who quietly converse with one other—though not near so urgently as Lizzie and Hope had done—whilst they approach the exit) to leave the circle before rising to her feet and carefully drawing near to a still-seated Josie Saltzman four chairs down, wincing at the pronounced sound of her rubber-soled combat boots against the polished hardwood with every step: _thud, thud, thud_. 

“Hey,” she hears herself say once she’s come to a stop (while keeping a perhaps overly respectable distance between the two of them, distance she prays is enough to tell Josie that she means no harm), her heated cheeks on _fire_. “Can we talk?”

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Josie says yes after only a moment’s hesitation, which Jade thinks is something of a miracle (even if a recurring one that’s been happening ever since they arrived back from the prison world), because it absolutely _baffles_ her that Josie won’t run the other way when she walks by; perhaps more accurately, it freaking _astounds_ her, because she tried to _kill_ Josie in a prison world that the poor girl wasn’t even bound to, meaning that any damage she sustained there would've transferred simultaneously onto her earthly body… meaning if she died there, she wouldn’t resurrect the way that Jade and Diego and Kai and Wendy all had a thousand times over. If she died there, she was just _dead_ , period.

(Not to mention, her blood would’ve been on _Jade’s_ hands.)

And somehow, that doesn’t seem to faze her; somehow, she’s still consciously seeking Jade out and engaging her in conversation and walking side-by-side with her in the halls… like she is now, completely unawares (and content to be so) unto the bone-deep guilt and bloodlust and _conflict_ setting every molecule of Jade’s being alight with a liquid heat like molten lava, the kind that seeps steadily through her hardened exterior like it’s tissue paper and burns through her rotting flesh like she deserves it (which, honestly, she’s rather convinced at this point that she does). 

And through it all, there’s Josie: laughing at Jade’s dumb jokes and smiling back at her from beneath long mascara-stained lashes and striding unflinchingly at her side like she’s not afraid to die, like she’s not afraid that Jade will be the one to do it.

(Though honestly, perhaps it’s foolish of Jade to even believe she could hurt Josie to begin with—she’s a powerful witch, she is. Strong.

Jade’s known that since the day she busted them all out of detention at a painfully young age with nothing more than the gentlest flick of her wrist and a murmured incantation that even Jade’s highly attuned ears strained to hear; she’s known from the very start that that girl is strong enough to move mountains and valleys and the very heavens above if she will it so, never mind that she herself doesn’t quite yet seem to know it.

Except, well… she’s without her magic, now—at least, if what Jade’s heard is to be believed. 

She’s as good as human, now, and Jade’s vampiric nature doesn’t mix well with that—she has the ghastly remembrance of a beautiful girl’s smile and the blood-curdling way she screamed when Jade’s fangs pierced her pretty neck and the sickeningly-sweet taste of an innocent human's blood on her tongue to remind her of that.)

“So,” Josie asserts once they’ve finished with the pleasantries and settled comfortably across from one another in the foyer-turned-study-room of the Salvatore School, all round doe-eyed gaze and pouty reddish lips and a potent air of distinct uncertainty about her that cuts to Jade’s very core with all the pernicious ease of a sharpened blade. “You said you wanted to talk?”

Jade swallows thickly, wiping her sweaty palms upon her denim-clad thighs and shifting awkwardly upon the blood-red upholstery of the divan beneath her (identical to the one Josie’s currently inhabiting a mere handful of feet away from her), desperate to quell the anxiety running rampant through her chest. “Yeah. Yeah, I…. Yeah.” _Great. Awesome start_.

Josie’s lips twitch at the corner, like she finds Jade’s ineptitude amusing. “About?”

“About, um… " she clears her throat awkwardly, silently willing herself to just come out and _say it_ , damn it. "Well, about what happened back in the prison world. About me almost… almost hurting you.”

Josie frowns, tilting her head ever-so-slightly to the side. “But you didn’t.”

She whispers out the next part like she’s scared of it—the outspoken nature of her words, the _truth_ in them (no matter how grotesque), like they’ll consume her if she’s not overtly careful of their implication: “I _wanted_ to.”

“Of _course_ you did,” Josie rationalizes plainly then, as if stating the obvious—there’s even something like the ghost of a wry smile tracing her full lips, an adoring look in eyes of hazel wood brown. (Jade wonders briefly if she’s seeing things.) “You didn’t have your humanity.”

Jade sighs, shaking her head self-deprecatingly even as a dangerous sort of warmth begins to bloom beneath her ribcage, the kind that she knows damn well has nothing to do with the warmth of the ever-lit fireplace to her right and everything to do with Josie Saltzman, with her unconditional acceptance and unfailing kindness and the way she’s looking at Jade right now like she doesn’t see a killer, like maybe she sees something else instead—something _better_. 

“I’m a ripper, Josie. That remains true even _with_ my humanity.”

“So?”

Jade blinks disbelievingly—once, twice, three times. “That doesn’t scare you?”

Josie shrugs. “I think you’re a good person, and I think that you’re doing your best. That’s all anyone can ask for, right?”

“That’s—That’s not—" Jade sputters out, cogent uncertainty pulsing low in her gut like tidal waves against a tropical shore. “You don’t understand, okay—I don’t think I can _control_ it—"

“And I think you can,” Josie interjects simply. “I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

“I thought… “ Jade trails off, exhaling deeply even as pins and needles prick painfully beneath her skin. “I thought you didn’t have your magic anymore.”

Josie’s face falls slightly at that, and Jade instantly regrets bringing it up to begin with. “I don’t,” she admits quietly before Jade can get to blurting out a heartfelt apology, a faraway look in her eyes. “But I’m practicing, taking back my magic an hour at a time and testing my control. It helps if I have something to anchor me, something to focus on… which, I guess, is where you come in,” she finishes modestly, gorgeous brown sincerity-filled eyes coming back to focus intently upon Jade’s.

“That’s… _Me?_ You want _me_ to anchor you? That doesn’t even—" Jade sputters, positively reeling in the wake of this newest revelation and wondering idly if perhaps the whole “black-magic-induced psychological split” Josie'd endured just days earlier hadn’t impaired her mental faculties a hell of a lot more than anyone realized. “I’m already, like, the least anchored person to exist, not even to _mention_ I almost _killed_ you on multiple different occasions in the prison world—"

“I think it could help us both, Jade,” Josie interrupts in a painfully gentle tone, and Jade’s not sure if it’s the pleading look in her hazelnut-brown eyes or maybe the utterly devastating way her name sounded coming from Josie's angelic lips, but it’s all she can do to stop herself from yielding without a second thought to Josie’s insistent will, from saying—

“I—Yeah, maybe. Sure.” (Sometimes she wonders why she even bothers.)

Josie flushes slightly, bowing her head even as a shy smile creeps upon her lips; suddenly, Jade can’t for the life of her remember what she was even so upset with herself about to begin with. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t believe in you, you know.”

“I’m just… scared.”

Josie’s smile widens at that even as a sadness Jade knows all too well creeps into her beautiful coffee-bean-brown eyes. “Me too.”

“Okay, so, like, not to break up this whole… whatever gay nonsense is happening here,” an airy, self-assured intonation comes from the hall, causing both she and Josie to whirl around in place to find Lizzie Saltzman standing grumpily upon the landing with an unimpressed look upon her features and her baby-blue sweater-clad arms stubbornly crossed beneath her chest. “But it’s been 10 minutes, and we need to get back to get our heads shrunk.”

The two of them scramble at once to their feet, identical crimson blushes upon their cheeks, Josie murmuring a “Sorry, Liz,” to her twin as she scurries up the bifold stairs and past the grumpy blonde in question, leaving Jade to trail hastily behind her. 

She doesn’t get very far, though, as she’s stopped rather abruptly short by an outstretched hand belonging to none other than Lizzie Saltzman—there’s no spell, no magic cast to keep her there, but the hand along with the decidedly grouchy look marring the blonde twin’s pretty features is more than enough to keep Jade stock-still in place, unease rising in her chest as she waits apprehensively for the other girl to speak. 

Luckily (or unluckily—it’s rather difficult to say) for her, she doesn’t have to wait for long:

“You like my sister, don’t you?” Lizzie questions (though it comes off sounding less like a query and more like an accusation), arms crossed and brow cocked. 

Jade blinks. “What?”

Lizzie huffs, dramatically rolling her eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me, blood-sucking Bambi—I don’t have time for that.”

“But we were just… We were just _talking_.”

“You like her,” Lizzie restates bluntly, green-eyed gaze narrowed threateningly.

Jade nearly chokes on air. _Shit_. “I—"

“Look, whatever,” Lizzie dismisses offhandedly, looking up and cursing unintelligibly beneath her breath as if she can’t quite _believe_ this is happening to her, as if Jade’s the one who initiated this… confusing and uncomfortable and ~~a little bit~~ _scary_ interaction between the two of them. (Which she didn’t. Obviously.) “This is taking too long. Just know this: if you hurt her in any way, and I mean _any_ way, I _will_ make you regret it. Deeply. Also, stop looking at her with those lovestruck puppy-dog eyes. It’s weird.”

Jade’s jaw slackens as she opens and closes her mouth like a desperate fish on land, struggling to find the words ( _any_ words) to fill the tense silence as the other girl glares at her expectantly, obviously seething in wait of a response—which, obviously, Jade has none to give. 

“Lizzie?” comes a distant voice from down the corridor, thereby (finally) breaking the apprehensive quiet—Jade thinks it's Hope, though she can’t quite be sure.

Lizzie huffs out another heavy sigh at that, narrowing her gaze even further upon Jade and uncrossing her arms to point a menacing finger inches from Jade’s nose. “This isn’t over, Jaqueline the Ripper,” she growls, pursing her red-painted lips. (Jade winces at the term, the way Lizzie spits it out like it’s something hateful… like _she’s_ something hateful. 

It sounds so different in this context, so unnatural and repulsive and _vile_.)

Then she’s turning swiftly on her heel and stomping confidently down the hall and towards the gymnasium in a meticulously-polished pair of Chelsea boots, leaving a wide-eyed and utterly crestfallen Jade in her wake. 

_Jesus_.

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**Author's Note:**

> thots? (my [tumblr](https://psyches.co.vu/) or just look me up @ultralightdumbass cause i'm on there way more often)


End file.
